dorum rambles on

I know what this beautiful community of likeminded people needs...

09:12, 31 October 2007 .. 3 comments .. Link
..
A long and boring list of what I have been up to instead of blogging, that's what! I have:

-Walked the dog

-Taught the dog to Sit, Lay down, Come, Go to bed and most importantly shit and piss outside. Yay doggie.

-Hoovered and mopped the floor EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. If you think
Rottweilers don't moult a lot, you are SORELY mistaken, I am the least houseproud person EVAH! But this dog has defeated me and now I clean. Every day. The shame.

-Put together masses of IKEA furniture. Alone. The only thing worse than putting together the 2 metre tall bookcases alone is doing it with the "help" of dear hubby. I am stronger and fitter. Not than him. Just than I was when I started putting them up. Duh.

-Translated about 100.000 words.

-Painted kitchen (no more pig colour)

-Gone to Norway on holiday

OK, that's the highlights, so you can imagine how humdrum the rest is. But we have furniture, so that's good. And a kitchen which is not the colour of a pig. Also good. So I am happy. My next entry might have some kind of entertainment value. Maybe.

Subscribe!

11:05, 23 September 2007 .. 14 comments .. Link
I've got a subscribe link! Look! *points frantically at the menu to the right* Subscribe, you bastards - subscribe!

Yes, I know it looks different from the other links in that menu - do I look like I care? It won't be looking like this in here for long anyway! Ha!

If you want a subscribey link on your blog, go see Keith's blog for instructions. Thanks, Keith!

New first post

08:30, 20 September 2007 .. 5 comments .. Link
Now the login issues are already dealt with  by the amazingly quick Keith (especially considering he somehow squeezed in a twelve hour workday as well), I have set my posts so that only registered users can comment, seeing as I was getting spam comments giving away my googling habits. Sex and drugs. Surprise. Isn't that what everybody googles?

I think this is going to pan out an even better blog home - am quite excited about it actually. Anyway, look at my header and marvel at how big Alfie has got!

That's it, really. Will update you on all the riveting things I have been up to shortly.

My excuse...

07:19, 13 July 2007 .. Link
for not posting is presented below. Oh, and I have a lot of work on which I am behind with, because there is much playing and toilet training to be done. Meet Alfie:



Still alive and that

04:40, 12 June 2007 .. Link
Can't be bothered to write, is all. Will be fiddling around with the design a bit I think - it's more fun in this new system.

I'll get back to blogging and commenting on other blogs in due course (i.e. when I can be bothered - so you're not the centre of my universe this month, you'll get over it).

In the meantime, you can always kid yourselves that the quality of my next entry will be mindblowing, due to the amount of time I've spent thinking it up.

What is well written?

03:45, 10 May 2007 .. Link
I read a lot of blogs. Not only on efx2, but all over the place. I have had a good old whinge about music on blogs before, here. Don't go there, peoples. It's soo annoying. People who like music are already listening to their own music, and don't like it being interrupted by your doubtlessly inferior tastes. Anyway, that wasn't what I was going to harp on about today.

Today, I was going to look at what makes me want to read more in a blog. I thought about this. Then I thought about it some more. I came up with this list:

Good blog posts are:

Short(ish)

Contain little or no TXTSPK type numbers and letter combinations

Funny or interesting or likeable or well written or bizarre or...

OK, I haven't the faintest clue. Some grab me, some don't.

I'm going to follow the "short" rule and leave this doomed blog post at this point. Tomorrow I am going to go to my new house and test out the echo in all the rooms.

EDIT IN HUGE FUCKOFF LETTERS:

THE KEYS ARE WAITING! THE EAGLE HAS LANDED. I WILL GO AND PICK UP THE
KEYS AND TEST THE ECHO IN THE ROOMS.

OVER AND OUT

Furniture? Overrated...

04:53, 4 May 2007 .. Link
So, we have signed our lives away, and I will be travelling to the estate agent on Friday to pick the keys up. That's right, ONE week from today, we shall be the owners of one empty house.

We have been renting furnished places for years. We own: telly , PC, futon sofabed thingy, small chest of drawers. We are moving in to a house with 3 bedrooms and lots of other rooms within the next couple of weeks. We have ordered a bed and a washing machine. That should be fine, then.

I'm sick of looking at furniture websites, trying to decide on stuff - where's a good place to buy a fucking sofa that doesn't look like a cheap, shitty piece of plastic cobbled together by a three-year-old? Why is "snot" a really popular colour for furniture (they don't call it that, but that's what it is)? And "baby diarrhoea" a close number two (HAHAHAHA number two! Do you see what I did there? LOL!1!!1)?

Anyway, it's Friday, and a bank holiday weekend, so I'm off to drink some beer or summat.

(I'm actually so excited about the house that I'm about to pee my pants, but don't tell anybody, as it would ruin my cool image)


I've been interviewed!

03:36, 28 April 2007 .. Link
Well, this has been a little while coming, I can only blame work, and the poxy housebuying (which is sort of moving forward, and then back, and then maybe a little bit forward, and then three steps back - you get the idea).

Eclectablog kindly sent me some questions a few days ago, so here is my attempt at answering them:

1. Your creative use of expletives is legendary. Do you swear as colorfully in "real life"?
Legendary... I like that. *basks in the glory of the word "legendary"* *cough* Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes, swearing, legendary...
No, I don't, actually, I swear a bit, but nowhere near like I do on this blog. And not as inventively - I just say "fuck" occasionally, really. I am, in general, much more creative in writing than in speech. Unless I'm really drunk. Apparently I told a guy from Iceland that Icelandic language was like "Norwegian for paedophiles" when I was ratarsed. That's fairly rude, and the kind of thing I would normally only write. So I guess the blog me is the same, in many ways, as the blind drunk me. But it's not about shyness really, more about not finding it particularly productive to go around offending people with my sense of humour all the time (on the net they can just choose not to read, you see).

The Icelandic bloke found it funny, by the way, so that was lucky...


2. You keep a very low profile on your blog (no picture or information in your profile, e.g.) Why do you keep your personal details so private?
Hehe. Why not? It says my age, and my occupation - that's something. No, there are a couple of reasons, really, one is that I do not want to be "googlable" to this blog on my real name, as I do freelance translation for a living and most of my new clients would be likely to Google me before contacting me or upon me contacting them, to try and establish that I'm genuine, that I'm being honest about my qualifications etc. I don't really think this blog gives the best impression of me in a professional capacity. Unless they're after a translator of swearwords. I'd be brilliant at that, I reckon.

I also joined a forum once, without being particularly careful about covering my tracks (although not offering any info up either), and people from there started phoning me up and emailing me uninvited, no big deal, but made me realise how easily done that is. So, just trying to keep my job, as it were.

The lack of picture is just that it's not very "me" to be plastering pictures of myself up everywhere - I might put one in the blog if there was a particular reason to. I think. But then again, maybe not.

3. What countries have you visited and which was your favorite.

I'm dividing this one into categories, as I found it hard to make sense of comparisons any other way.

I have lived in Norway (1975-1996), England (1996-2002, 2004-present)), China (2002-2004).
Out of the three, England is my favourite, because it's where I feel at home.

I have visited
Sweden, Denmark, Turkey, Greece (Corfu), Cyprus (greek side), Malta, Spain, Germany, France, Holland, Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, Guatemala, Ecuador.

These visits range from a weekend trip to months travelling around, so it's not all that comparable. My favourite was Ecuador, both because I met hubby there, and because I loved the place (maybe because I spent three months there, lying in hammocks and getting pissed...). I find I usually judge places more on the merit of people I meet there than the country itself (could explain my preference for England, hehe).

4. What music is in heavy rotation on your cd player these days?
What's a CD player? You have hit upon something strange here - I rarely listen to music. I can't while I work, as the translation generally uses up all available space in my brain. When I'm not working, I tend to read (can't stand music while I read), watch films or TV, or be out of the house. So, none. I think it's about three years since I bought music in any shape or form. I used to go out dancing to some fairly hard, funky techno back in the day, but would never listen to that at home. I think the last CD I bought was a Massive Attack one.

5. Have you ever met any fellow bloggers? Who and what tasty tidbits can you tell us about them that nobody else knows?
No. None. I've never met a single one of them, but I'm sure I will one day - it's not like the UK is huge or anything. And I do tend to travel abroad occasionally, so maybe even fellow bloggers from foreign shores. But, I've only been blogging here since September, don't forget - give me time!
So, no dirt on anybody, I'm afraid. Sorry.

OK, that was that. In a twist on the original meme, if you feel any questions were missed out, feel free to ask them, and I will try to answer them. If anybody wants me to interview them, let me know, I'll do it (if I must).

General apology to the world (well, efx2 anyway)

12:55, 19 April 2007 .. Link
Yes, I admit it, I deleted all the blog alerts. My head was hurting. And there were too many. Now I don't know what's going on with anybody. I'm ever so busy.

At least I'm not smoking.



I can't wait! No, really, I mean that, I CAN'T BLOODY WAIT!

04:12, 13 April 2007 .. Link
PARENTAL ADVISORY: What the fuck are you doing letting children read my blog? Have you lost your cunting mind?

Well, readers, it seems I have lost my Zen-like calm. This may please some of you, as you seem to like it when I get all red-faced and sweary. That's fine. You're probably going to hell anyway.

The things is, you see, I may have mentioned this before: patience is not my strongest point. I do not have a degree in waiting from the university of Stuttgart. I'm all about instant gratification. I eat my dessert before dinner (this is not just a figure of speech - I did this very thing only yesterday). I have tantrums like a five-year-old if I am made to wait for anything. I'll pay extra to avoid the agony of waiting for stuff (next day delivery £400 extra? Sign me up).

So it should have been obvious to anyone that buying a house would be a trying thing for me to attempt. So I had to go one better. I had to go and buy a house in the slowest fucking country in the world.

For those of you not familiar with the intricacies of buying a house in England, you usually end up involving the following parties: the buyer, the vendor, the estate agents, buyer's solicitor, vendor's solicitor, buyer's mortgage provider.
Bear in mind, this is a very SIMPLE constellation, as there is no upward or downward chain involved.

Now imagine the people above trying to communicate with each other. Guess how they do that in this day and age? Surely via email? No? Maybe a bit behind the times - telephone and fax perhaps? Oh, no. This is England, don't you know. All communication happens via LETTER. That's right - letter. So that slows us down fairly fucking much.

Another delightful part of buying a house here, is the "searches" that have to take place. My favourite is the "mining search". Because we live in a part of England which is all old coal mines etc., and we are moving to an old mining village to boot, we have to pay for our solicitor to undertake a mining search, to check that there isn't an old mineshaft under the house or summat. Makes sense, you might think, but I have news for you: IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKEN SENSE AT ALL!

Allow me to elaborate: the house we are buying was built in 2002. A mining search must have been performed before they could even build the fecking thing. Then the current owner bought it, I believe in 2005. He would then have had to perform yet another mining search (I believe the cost of them is something like £175 or so, for pressing a button on a computer). And now we have to do one. Bless this land of the bureaucrats.

In short: I'm getting a little impatient, can I please just have my fucking house now, you bunch of stealing, lying, slow-moving, irritating cuntdribblingcockspasticbastardgraaarrrgh!

*adjusts hair and make-up after massive snot-bubbly benny*
I feel better now.

I'm still alive (despite someone's best efforts)

10:13, 10 April 2007 .. Link
Hello. Long weekend just came to an end. We had a nice one, played a bit of poker, did a bit of cleaning, drinking, socialising etc. But no smoking. Which is good.

So yesterday, we spent the first half of the day doing very little - watching crap telly and reading mainly. In the afternoon, hubby suggested we go for a drive out to near where our new house is situated, to go for a walk and get a bit of fresh air and some views of rolling hills and green fields and stuff. Lovely, I said. Let's do that. So we did.

We had a lovely walk, enjoying the peace and quiet and the lovely weather, chatting about how little Odd Job would like to be taken for his walkies in that particular spot, and generally feeling all happy and chirpy. On the way back, we found that we had almost worked up a sweat, and an ice cream van was conveniently parked at the end of the path. He was doing a roaring trade, but was a little slow at serving.

Believe it or not, I patiently waited my turn without swearing even once, and in the end I got my reward. We slowly sauntered off along the main road towards the olde worlde country pub car park where our lovely Mini was situated, planning to grab some grub in the pub before heading home. At this point, I noticed a little black car which was just passing us, as it was veering from lane to lane, and just as I was thinking "stupid boy racer", the driver completely lost control, and the car smashed in to a stone wall about 15 foot in front of us, no doubt giving the pigs and cows on the other side the shock of their lives.

At that point, I turned away, thinking that I wouldn't want to see what was inside that car. But two young girls came stumbling out, a bit pummelled from the airbags going off, but otherwise OK. We left shortly after, having established that the police weren't interested, as nobody was hurt and only one car was involved. Then we got a bit shaky, realising that we would have been dead had the ice cream man not been of the slower paced countryside variety. But we're not dead. So that's good.

Apart from that, a fairly uneventful Easter weekend. Must work now. Toodle pip.

The dreadfully smug self-congratulatory happy-clappy spring post

12:36, 4 April 2007 .. Link
Hello, fans. I'm happy. This is bad for swearing, but good for other stuff. Like happiness.

Happiness fact no. 1: It's spring! The sun is shining! I have sat in the garden reading today - in a T-shirt! The exclamation marks are annoying even me!

Happiness fact no. 2: I no longer smoke. I haven't had a cigarette for *consults quit calculator* 6 days 4 hours and 16 minutes. And I'm happy about it! None of the "ohmigod, I can never have a cigarette again" anxiety which has plagued me during previous attempts to quit. Go me. *practises smug non-smoker attitude and wrinkled nose at smokers*

Happiness fact no. 3: House purchase is moving along, at a snail's pace admittedly, but that was expected. Everyone has been very helpful and stuff. We are closer to owning that house (well, the bank owning it) every day.

Happiness fact no. 4: Food is good. Really good. I like food. Mmmm. Food. Today, I think I shall try the recipe for tuna steaks with sauce which the wonderful Pixie of Welsh origin but with Scottish connections posted recently (was it yesterday? I think so). Mmm. Food.

That's it really. Vomit away. *wanders off with a big, smug, happy grin*

The grrr! raaah! aaaargh! post

09:27, 29 March 2007 .. Link
Good morning. I just had my last cigarette. Permit me to predict my responses to just about anything for the next couple of days: GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

But right now, I'm feeling fine. I just read that within 4 weeks of quitting, I should be less wrinkly. Oh good. That was maybe not the most motivating fact (believe it or not, at 32 I'm not THAT wrinkly).

Also, my addiction level is medium, apparently. So this will be a breeze. Mostly because I'm fucking fed up with smoking - I've smoked since I was 14, and it's such a stupid habit. Think of all the money I can now spend on paying the mortgage shoes and beer.

Must get back to work. If you should find me somewhere later, crying and scrambling around on the ground looking for cigarette butts to steal the baccy from and roll myself a tramp's ciggy, just slap me around the back of the head.

I shall be using the comments field to record my feelings as I go - feel free to leave wonderful messages of support and group hugs and stuff.

I'm back *sniffle*

12:15, 27 March 2007 .. Link
Well, I returned from 10 very relaxing days in Norway late last night. The time was mostly spent helping my sister to look after my little nephews, who I have turned completely to mush over - I love being an aunt! Littlest nephew (18 months) gave me a toy first thing every morning - as I stumbled bleary-eyed from the guest bedroom towards the bathroom, the little ankle-biter would look up at me with his big, brown eyes and stretch out his chubby little arm to give me something to play with - usually a Duplo car or train or similar. Bless. And big brother (2 and a half) figured out how to charm me into letting him get away with everything within a few hours of me arriving.

But I haven't lost my mind completely - I don't want any sprogs of my own. Nephews will do very nicely, ta very much. And they gave me a cold, such sharing, caring children. So now I'm sniffling, and have just cancelled a dentist's appointment. Figured he wouldn't appreciate my sneezing all over him.

Oh, and that was the longest I've been away from hubby since we've been together (7 years). 10 whole days. It's healthy to miss each other a bit after such a long time, probably, and miss him I did. Glad to be home now.

I might write something vaguely entertaining one of these days - watch this space!

A spliff story

09:12, 13 March 2007 .. Link
I'm busy. There's a surprise.

I'm also going to Norway for 10 days very soon (Friday). Mmmm... No work...

In the Guardian today, they talk about "guerilla cannabis growers" - they plant cannabis on other people's land and then come back and collect it three months later. That's never happened in our back garden. Never mind. I'd be quite pleased - it smells nice.

But I wouldn't smoke any of it, because this is what would happen:
___________________________________________
Dorum smokes cannabis, scene 1 act 1

Inside Dorum's living room - a small room filled with useless clutter and dust bunnies. A married couple are sitting on the sofa. The man, Sven, is sitting up and holding a spliff. The woman, Dorum, is lying down.

Sven: Well, lets smoke this thing - may as well, it was free! (Sven likes free things - he is half Scottish, half Yorkshireman)

Dorum: OK, why not, it's been a long time.

Sven lights up and inhales deeply a couple of times.
S: Mmmm... Nice.
He passes the spliff to D.

D inhales deeply. And again. And again. and... just one more time. There you go.
D: That's pretty good.

Three hours pass, in which Sven tries to strike up various conversations, none of which D shows the slightest interest in, as she is busy lying and staring.

D: (accusing tone) Are you looking at me? I'm going to bed.
_________________________________________________

And that is why I'm not bothered about cannabis in any of its glorious forms. I really don't need the help in the idleness department.

Wouldn't that play above make a great musical?


Easily distracted

06:46, 6 March 2007 .. Link
I have started on several blog posts. Well, started is a bit of an exaggeration - I thought about some and then forgot them in an instant. And I do literally mean in an instant - in the time it takes my broadband connection to bring up the "writey blog post" page (that's the technical name for it). Gone. Forgotten. Must have been some really bloody important thoughts, eh?

One blog post never came to be because I put in the headline ("Entertainment"), and then ended up spending ages trying to do a clever anagram of "entertainment" involving "internet" and something else which never quite materialised. So I didn't find the time to write the actual post. Another literary gem lost.

So anyway, this is a blog post which presents to you yet another of my strange afflictions, but not a whole list of them, like this one or this one.

You guessed it - I'm easily distracted. Oh look, a puppy! Wheee! What was I saying? Yes, the fact that I am so easily distracted makes blogging quite difficult at times, a lot of half finished thoughts and half finished posts find their way onto these pages. And sometimes nothing finds its way onto these pages, because I'm busy being distracted by something or other.

And that's what's been happening recently. Distractions. And restlessness. I haven't been able to stay on this page long enough to finish a blog post (I usually spend about 10 to 15 minutes on them, so that tells you something about my levels of restlessness).

Ooooh, is this metablogging? Blogging about blogging you see - dreadfully clever and intellectual. I think I might have to go and have a lie down.

In other news, the sun is shining, and we are pondering whether it is cruel to call your dog Odd Job - I feel a poll coming on...

Just call me Lady Dorum

09:16, 2 March 2007 .. Link
Yes, I'm rubbish, aren't I? absolute unadulterated shiteness personified. That strange Reality thing is happening again. Now then. To give a summary of how I'm feeling right now:

WOOHOOOOO!

The aforementioned stupid house owner who turned down our offer, accepted our second offer. So we like to think of ourselves as landowners now... And the house owner has magically grown a brain and become quite an agreeable person. Funny that...

I'm off to get some paperwork done - shouldn't you people be tilling the land or something?

I know what you are thinking. Backwards.

09:57, 23 February 2007 .. Link
I have learnt some interesting stuff this week. From Popbitch. The ultimate source of knowledge and inspiration. Or something.

I have learnt that this man exists. He looks to me like he'd be the kind of person who would sue you from here to eternity if you said something bad about him, so here it goes: You do WHAT?

OK, OK, I'll put in an explanation here for those of you (I know you're out there) who never ever click on links because your computer is powered by a hamster in a wheel and it would take you half an hour just to get to the page: That is a man who offers "telephone sessions". He bases these sessions on recordings of you talking. This is the good bit: He takes the recording and plays it backwards, to find the REAL message in what you are saying. That's the short version. If you're THAT interested, hop along to his website on your hamster-powered computer and check it out, there's examples of telephone sessions and everything. I couldn't bear to listen to those.

So, this man plays what you've said backwards, and then turns around and says stuff like "you were abused as a child". If you say "I don't seem to remember that", he'll presumably say "you must have repressed it, it's there, clear as day in your subconscious, seeing as I heard it. In your message. Backwards". I can't even begin to describe what I think of this man, and the kinds of problems his quackery could be causing people. WHAT. A. COCK.

Of course, I clicked on the "Buy" button for a 60 minute telephone session, seeing as he doesn't like to tell you the price elsewhere on his website. The pure joy of talking to this pudding for 60 minutes will cost you roughly US$ 108. If you want to, you can leave messages on my answerphone, and I'll play them backwards and tell you what you are REALLY thinking, and I'll only charge US$ 50. That's just the kind of lovely person I am.

Well done to you, mister cockfaced arsewipe, for exploiting the vulnerable.

Breaking news!

01:19, 21 February 2007 .. Link
This morning, I had two cups of coffee instead of one!!!11!!
Please contain your excitement and/or astonishment. This is a snapshot of the excitement in my life at the moment: work, work, work, coffee, cigarette, write inane comment on efx2, work, work, work. Repeat ad nauseam.

In between (and sometimes whilst, when the work is mundane enough) working, I have been thinking about important issues, such as: Why is the guy whose house we are wanting to buy such an idiot? He's had no other interest in the house, but turned our offer down flat without even attempting to negotiate (and it was a good offer, because we want the place). He's living elsewhere, which means he is losing money while it is unoccupied (insurance, council tax, bills etc.), and the house is not ideal for most people as it's not a great family house. And stuff. So anyway, he might soften over time.

In other news, we left during the interval of "As you like it" at the Crucible on the weekend, proving to ourselves and the world that we are plebs. Ho hum. It was not enjoyable at all, so we left. Went home, watched boxing, drank beer.

End of fascinating sit rep. Returning to work. Maybe I'll have a cigarette first...

Death by feminism

09:45, 16 February 2007 .. Link
Hello. I'm pissed off again. Not pissed off to the point of being beetroot red with dangerously high blood pressure and smashing up nearby fragile objects, just the kind of annoyed and disgruntled which can be cured by a good swearing and ranting session on this goodly blog, which really is my therapy. My way of getting these thoughts out there.

Twice this week, due to our dabbling in buying a house (maybe, maybe not) and trying to find a decent mortgage deal, I have been asked the question "Miss or Mrs?". Fair enough, they have to ask that, it's on the form. But each time, I have replied "It's Ms, actually" (for my shame, I say this in an apologetic tone). One woman I spoke to became apologetic back, and said: "I don't like asking that question, but we have to". Fair enough, no biggie, you can call me what you like if you give us a good mortgage deal.

What made want to reach through the telephone wires and establish a firm grip around my "conversation partner's" neck, though, was the other person's reaction. He said, in the slimiest tone of voice ever, "oh yes, we have to be politically correct these days, don't we". WHAT? For your information, you little turd, this word has been in use at least since the 70s, and if I wish to be called Ms, then you should just bloody well write that down on your little pad and get it right in any future correspondence - you asked the question. there is nothing "politically correct" about it, you despicable little cunt. PC is the most horrendously overused and misused expression around these days. Look it up somewhere. Twatface.

As it happens, Ms is the only title I can use that isn't misleading - if I use Miss, that implies I'm not married (which I am), and if I use Mrs, that implies that I have taken my husband's name (which I haven't). I'd probably use it anyway, just to irritate idiots like that bloke (in fairness, I have experienced this kind of reaction many times with women as well). What confuses the fuck out of me, frankly, is why we even use Miss and Mrs these days? Why don't we all use Ms and be done with it? So. Much. Simpler.

Come on, all women in English-speaking countries. Start calling yourselves Ms. then we'll have Mr and Ms, and my life will be easier. Thank you for your cooperation.

For those of you who are disturbed by the "feminism R us"-trend of this blog at the moment: Fuck right off. Next week something else will irritate me.

{ Last Page } { Page 1 of 5 } { Next Page }

About Me

Home
My Profile
Register Today! Archives
Friends
My Photo Album

Links

DrDog
Eclectablog
PD
King of Ankh
Chica
Chandra
Deej
Elisla
Treasa
Jeremy

Categories


Shouty shouty

Recent Entries

I know what this beautiful community of likeminded people needs...
Subscribe!
New first post
My excuse...
Still alive and that

Friends

treasa
PeriodicallyDemented
DeeJay
Chandramoon
elisla
birdsnest
Chica
kingofankh
donald113
thebigp
LadyVisine
Eclectablog
WelshPixie
Keith
honeychild
jeremy
TrevaLVF
slayerbarbie
Squilla
Kazart
Mia